


Sowilo

by LadyBlack3



Series: Life runes [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBlack3/pseuds/LadyBlack3
Summary: This piece was written as part of a Winter Writing Fest (2019), organised by the Weasley, Witches, & Writers group.Prompt: ‘The best thing to do on a snowy day'Warning: Explicit sexual content.This work is a sequel to Kenaz, a piece written as part of the Pumpkins & Ginger Fall Fest 2019.Sowelu/Sowilo - rune of the Elder Futhark alphabetSowilo represents the power of the sun, wholeness, victory, manifested success and happiness.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bill Weasley, Rose Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley
Series: Life runes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612693
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61
Collections: What to do on a Snowy Day





	Sowilo

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written as part of a Winter Writing Fest (2019), organised by the Weasley, Witches, & Writers group.
> 
> Prompt: ‘The best thing to do on a snowy day'
> 
> Warning: Explicit sexual content.
> 
> This work is a sequel to Kenaz, a piece written as part of the Pumpkins & Ginger Fall Fest 2019.
> 
> Sowelu/Sowilo - rune of the Elder Futhark alphabet
> 
> Sowilo represents the power of the sun, wholeness, victory, manifested success and happiness.

****

**31st December 2019**

“Pass the butter please?” Hermione asked Victoire as she cleaned the last of the sprouts and heated up the cast iron skillet on the cooker. 

Victoire fetched it from the cooling cabinet and handed it over, prepping the last of the bacon. “Dad will kiss your hands for this,” she grinned.

“Well, it’s the only way I can get him to eat sprouts, cook them in butter and smoked bacon fat,” she replied, a smile lifting the corner of her lips, watching as her husband and son-in-law kept up the heating charms around their outdoor grill, checking on the ribs they insisted on cooking barbecue-style despite the cold temperatures outside their magical field.

The beautiful young woman next to her was everything she hadn’t been at the age of nineteen - beautiful, confident, happily settled into life, and radiant in love. When Hermione turned nineteen, they were searching for the horcruxes. Due to her use for the time-turner in the third year, the magic demanded a payment in the form of her lifetime, and she paid the price without even knowing it. With the war looming, her unresolved feelings for Ron, constant hunger, depression, and desperation to defeat Voldemort, she had been anything but normal. Victoire had grown into her features over the past few years, her long blond hair reaching the middle of her back in soft waves, the sweet oval face with little nose and lovely expressive eyes were very much features she inherited from her mother’s. From her occasional call with Fleur, Hermione knew she was extremely proud of her daughter and missed spending time with her. She tried to encourage Victoire to visit with her mother more often, but she gathered it was a question of age. Perhaps in a few years, she would come to appreciate more the fact that both Fleur and Hermione could have equal space in her heart.

Now a successful entrepreneur, Victoire owned a boutique in Horizon Alley, another magical area of London opened up recently after the boom in magical business and expansion to accommodate the muggle technology permeating their world at a rapid pace. Her ability to create the most breathtaking jewellery was a natural born gift that they helped her hone along with her charms and runic magic skills. Hermione touched the beautiful pendant on her neck, a round moonstone the size of a galleon, with flecks of darker grey that made it look like the moon itself, set in exquisite platinum. It had been a surprising and most welcome Christmas gift from the young couple just a few days back, and she was absolutely enchanted. Every time she caressed it, it made her think of the golden flash in Bill’s eyes near the full moon.

Being the de-facto step-mum to Victoire and watching her blossom as a woman alongside her Rosie for years has been a true privilege. “Does it look like they’ve made it work?” she asked, chucking everything into the skillet and casting a protective charm around it to keep her clothes clean.

“I think so…” Victoire looked through the window, her eyes narrowed. “Do you think dad will eventually stop grumbling about Teddy? I thought we made progress when he helped organise our engagement party in the summer, but sometimes I’m not so sure with the way he looks at him,” she turned her worried gaze towards her.

Hermione offered a reassuring smile. “You know he has his grumpy days, but your dad loves you very much and only wants you to be happy. He respects your choice and dare I say he even likes Teddy,” she offered. “I just think it’s a bit hard for him to let go. It’s quite strange seeing your child grow up and start their adult life with a partner. I feel the same about Rosie. I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” She hoped her words would soothe the blonde’s worries, as she pulled out the roasted potatoes and cannelloni from the oven, glad to be nearly done with cooking. She never thought she would get to have this life, the uncertainty of the war was too great. And despite loosing Charlie, the fates have been kind to her.

“Do you ever wonder what your time at Hogwarts would have been like without the war?” Victoire asked gently, unable to stem her curiosity. She could tell when Hermione got thoughtful about the past. She had that same wistful expression on her face as some of her uncles and friends’ parents.

Hermione carried the finished dishes to the set table and cast statis on them to keep them warm. “Sometimes I do, yes. But I like to think that going through what we did only helped us get to where we are today,” she explained. “Had the war ended differently, I could have been dead. Or married to your uncle Ron instead,” she pointed out with a grin. 

“No offence to uncle Ron, but ew,” she wrinkled her nose. “Is it weird that I only think of you as belonging with dad now?” she asked, still happy that their little Halloween runic work a few years back made her dad and Hermione get together properly. She still called her ‘tata’ but in all honesty, Hermione was just as much a mother to her as her birth mum.

Hermione felt a small pang of sadness, remembering the way her heart used to sing for Charlie before it ever sung for Bill. “It’s not weird at all. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were my own but that veela fire in your heart is a precious gift from your mum,” she offered to the grinning blonde and looked over the table. “Are you sure she’ll like the cannelloni? I hope they’re not dry,” she fussed a bit. 

Rosie was bringing a friend to meet them, a classmate called Florence O’Creagh. As far as Hermione knew, she was a half blood from a long Irish magical line of O’Creagh’s, a Raveclaw, and a vegetarian. That’s all she’d learned from the more recent letters. Well, and she did had the feeling that this Florence was somehow very important to her daughter.

Rosie had been so excited when she was invited to stay with the O’Creaghs for half of the holiday break. As she packed up the afternoon of Boxing Day, Hermione watched her go, glad she would get the chance to see her once more for New Year’s Eve before they returned to Hogwarts on the 2nd January. She had hoped Rose would ask if Florence could join them, and she finally did. A part of her wondered why Rose hasn’t introduce them sooner, whether there was a reason she took nearly two years to do so. Hopefully they will find out tonight, without having to apologise for dry cannelloni…

“They look just fine, tata. You worry too much,” Victoire waved her off and cast a few charms to tidy the first load of dishes and all the surfaces to keep the large kitchen and dining room tidy. 

“Thank you for helping,” Hermione smiled and topped up their wine glasses just as Bill and Teddy walked in with a loaded plate of ribs for the two of them.

Victoire’s nose wrinkled at the smoky smell. “You do know we have a vegetarian coming?” she pointed out.

Bill shrugged and cast a spell that would mute the smell for most humans but not for his part-lycan nose. He inhaled the scent deeply, looking forward to the protein as the full moon was only a week and a half away and his cravings were becoming more prominent again. “That should do it,” he set it on the table just as the wards notified them that someone new was walking through, a moment before Rosie was coming in, followed by a curvy brunette witch. She had a polite smile on her face though Hermione could see she was trying to get a feel for the room.

“Hi everyone,” Rosie greeted them and came to give her mum and dad a quick kiss on the cheek. “This is Florence. Flo, this is mum and Bill, and you know Victoire and Teddy,” she offered by way of introduction.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she replied, shaking their hand and waving to the young couple by the table. 

“We’re glad you could join us. Dinner is just about ready, I hope you like cannelloni?” Hermione tried to make sure she felt welcome and invited them to sit down wherever they wished.

“I love Italian, thank you,” she offered and walked over to the table, hesitant about seating. Hermione nodded to Bill and they each took one end of the table, allowing the kids to take the two sides.

She noticed Rosie flashing her friend an encouraging smile as they sat together across from the young couple, before Bill invited them all to dig in, Victoire drawing the two girls into talk of Hogwarts and their N.E.W.T. classes.Hermione sipped her wine as she accepted some of the cannelloni on her plate, and looked around the table at her lovely family.

Bill and Teddy were casting charms over their shirts to keep clean as the saucy ribs were divided between the two of them, still talking about options for barbecues for the whole Weasley family. It was their turn to host the Weasley summer garden party next year after all, and the grill seemed to be working its magic to get the two stubborn men on a more equal footing. 

The silver bleeding into the long red locks around Bill’s temples was becoming a bit more prominent these days but as far as Hermione was concerned, her husband was just as handsome as ever. He was contented and challenged both in his post of Head Curse Breaker for the British Gringotts branch, and she could see just how much the lycan part of his natureenjoyed the adventure while having a peaceful household to return to, hoping that their love and partnership was one of the reasons for it. Not one day of her marriage to Charlie had been boring, and she wondered whether she would ever feel that kind of companionship ever again after he was taken from her. Ever since that fateful Halloween night though, Bill and herself were growing from strength to strength as a couple, the closeness they once shared as friends, family and confidantes evolved well into a loving partnership. They married last year, in the circle of their friends and family on Hermione’s birthday in September, and she couldn’t be happier to call him her husband.

Bill felt her eyes on him and looked across the table to meet her gaze. She offered a small smile, the skin around her luscious lips showing a couple of small lines, and the little crows feet around her whiskey coloured eyes made her look all the happier this evening. Freshly in her forties, his wife still made the beast in his chest rumble with desire and contentment both. Her shiny, riotous curls were piled atop her head and her simple navy dress highlighted her lovely curves that have grown just a little bit over the past couple of years. But most of all it was that spark in her eyes, the deep well of intelligence and warmth that kept his desire for her burning bright. She raised a brow in his direction, sensing the direction of his thoughts, before circling her gaze around the dinner table as if to say ‘look what we have, how lucky we are,’ and he couldn’t agree more. Two beautiful daughters, a happy home, and hopefully many years together before them.

“They’re doing it again,” Rose muttered to Victoire quietly. 

“Would you rather they scowled at each other over the main course?” she pointed out, squeezing Teddy’s hand over her thigh under the table.

The movement drew Bill’s eye and he frowned at the teal-haired menace who reached for the ribs again and began eating with both hands this time, a perfectly pleasant and innocent expression in place. Hermione chuckled and sipped at her wine, her gaze landing on the two young women to her right, as Teddy entertained them with a hair change for every bite of the ribs he took. 

Hermione remembered her foray into time travel in third year with mixed feelings. Some days she willed time to slow, others to go faster past the long nights of studying and the difficult days. But when her Rosie was born, she felt the pull of time all the more pressingly, watching the small babe once fit enough for her arms grow every single day, year after year. Today her Rosie was a beautiful young woman, and soon would be out of Hogwarts and leaving the house she once used to call home. She had the lovely Weasley colouring of coppery curls, a sweet smattering of freckles on her nose and rosy cheeks. The wild ringlets and whiskey eyes were all Hermione’s and she adored seeing the way her features held both Charlie’s and her own heritage. Of course Rosie considered the wild curls a nuisance, especially for quidditch, so kept them shoulder-length and forever pulled up into a messy bun atop her head. She felt a swell of pride at the thought of her hard-working daughter’s achievements as the Captain of the Quidditch team and Head Girl as well. They once said Hermione could be the Minister for Magic if she chose to, but she rather fancied her daughter would make a better one if she was so inclined. As it appeared however, she suspected her daughter would rather chase the quaffle for a living.

They had everything they could ask for right at this table, and she couldn’t think of a better way to ring in the New Year tonight. Well, perhaps only if it showed…

“I’m so full,” Teddy patted his flat stomach with a pleased expression a while later, his teal hair deepening in colour with contentment.

“Coffee and dessert in the living room?” Hermione suggested. “Why don’t you show Florence the garden and make your new year wishes under the apple tree? Dad and I will join you in a minute after we set up.”

“The apple tree?” Florence asked Rose as they pulled on their coats and cloaks.

“It’s the eldest tree on the property and the only apple tree for miles, planted by the magical ward stone. We always make a wish under the tree on New Years Eve for good fortune that year,” she explained as they joined Victoire and Teddy and headed out.

Hermione set the kettle on and watched them through the window, smiling fondly at the sight of Teddy snuggling Victoire into his side. She leaned up to whisper something into his ear and Hermione chuckled at the sight of his usually teal hair shifting to the bubblegum pink his mother once wore when she was happy. They made such a lovely couple. Her gaze flicked to the two young women walking behind them and wondered whether her Rosie would find her happiness some time soon.

A pair of familiar arms wrapped around her waist and she leaned back against the tall, warm frame of her husband. “They make a lovely couple. Is it just me or do you think Rosie and Florence…”

Bill dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “I think so, they wear each other’s scent, in the same way we carry each other,” he observed. “We’ll find out when she’s ready to tell us.”

Hermione nodded and switched off the tap, glad the last of the dishes were done as well. She levitated the cake and coffee into the living room to wait for them, before stepping over to Bill once again and allowing him to slide her cloak over her shoulders.

“Let’s join them. I can smell snow in the air, maybe it will come down soon,” he pulled her into one last kiss and held the door open for her. Hopefully his new year wishes will continue to come true…

* * *

The first light of the day tickled his nose and he woke suddenly, realising her side of the bed was cool to the touch under his outstretched finger tips. He took a deep breath in, her scent no longer fresh in the room, something else catching his interest instead. One look at the window and he knew where his wife could be found.

He pulled on a pair of sleeping trousers and padded down the stairs, checking on the sounds of the house. Everyone seemed to be either asleep or using privacy charms, and he would really rather not disturb those. So he headed down for the kitchen, his nose twitching in delight at the smell of pomegranate molasses and nuts.

It was one of Hermione’s traditions. Whenever the first snow of the year came down upon them, she would bake her mum’s Snowflake pie. Delicious frangipane, and pomegranate molasses were the dominant features, as well as the lovely design on the top. Instead of the usual interwoven lattice over the top, she hand carved a snowflake design out of the dough, ensuring it was slightly different every single year, just like the unique nature of real snowflakes. When Rosie and Victoire were younger, they used to take part and help her with the design. Truth be told Bill had sampled some rather unique snowflakes before their skills developed a bit. And each year, Hermione carved the Sowilo rune into the centre of the snowflake, a way for them to all celebrate the success and happiness they enjoyed since the last Snowflake pie they shared together the year prior. The girls will be happy to come down to pie and tea for a New Years breakfast, and perhaps Teddy and Florence will grow to like the custom as well.

As he expected, Hermione was sitting up on the kitchen counter, in the corner by the window where she kept a few cooking books and a small magnetic pad for notes and food shopping lists. Her knees were pulled up to her chest to keep her warm as she cradled a cup of steaming tea, only a thin robe covering her simple cotton nightie. She was gazing out of the window, taking a quiet moment for herself as she watched the snow falling gently. He didn’t even want to disturb her anymore. 

“Morning, love,” she greeted him, sensing his presence easily. She reached for the kettle and swirled it gently. “There should be enough for another cup?” she asked.

Bill nodded and watched her climb down before going about making him a cuppa. Her robe reached to her mid-thigh and the gentle swell of her hips caught his eye. A memory of holding onto those delicious hips as the small patch of red curls met her plush cheeks in a steady rhythm made his pupils dilate slightly. It has been nearly a week since he last made love to his wife, and the beast in his chest rumbled with need.

Hermione smiled when she felt him approach, expecting a kiss to her shoulder, a place that he enjoyed breathing in her scent from in the early morning, and teasing with his teeth. What she didn’t expect was the firm press of his body against hers, the three thin layers of cotton between them unable to disguise his rising need.

“Bill, the children…” she warned.

“Are not children anymore,” he reasoned as his fingers swept the thick braid of hair to the side where he could assess her neck. “Besides…I cast wards around the kitchen..and they’re all still sleeping…” he pointed out in between nibbles to her soft, creamy skin. 

Hermione shuddered, feeling her body responding to the teasing touches and rumbling of his voice in her ear. He always had a way of tantalising her senses. “Here?” she asked, not sure it was the best of ideas, especially considering their height difference. Bill hummed and with a firm grip turned her around in his arms, hoisting her up onto the counter to align their bodies.

Nimble fingers reached down to unwrap her robe and she accepted another kiss as she pulled the edge of her nightie higher up on her legs to allow him the space between her thighs unhindered. A firm hand pulled her bum to the edge as he pressed their hips close, groaning into their kiss when he felt the heat of her core. He pushed the robe off her shoulders to gain access to more of her skin, the thin cotton strap falling down to her elbow, her breast dangerously close to spilling from the soft cup. Bill’s warm palm cupped the soft flesh, and his lips swallowed the groan of pleasure that spilled from her throat.

She tugged on the waistband of his pants and pushed them down, reaching for the quickly filling velvet length greedily. Heart racing, she was getting impatient now and wanted to feel him inside her. A couple of contraceptive charms later, Bill guided his length through her slick folds and gently pressed inside until he felt the head of him nudge at her cervix gently. 

“Too deep?” the question rumbled in her ear as she flexed her hips against his tight grip.

She shook her head, unable to speak in that moment as she caught his gaze and saw the flecks of gold of the wolf within. Then again she didn’t need to speak, he could see the need and pleasure building in her eyes, the heat rising on her cheeks despite the cool window so close to her back. With a hum of pleasure, he nudged her thigh until she set her foot firmly against the corner edge of the counter, opening up further for his hips as they set a gentle rhythm.

She leaned back slightly, supported by one of her arms to best angle her hips and meet him thrust for thrust. Their gaze never left each other as the heat began building between them quickly. Her hand slid on the slight sheen of perspiration on his firm freckled shoulder, nails digging in at a particularly delicious angle of his hips.

“There, again,” she urged as the head of his length dragged over a sensitive spot. 

Recognising the urgency in her voice, he gripped onto her hip more firmly and let go of the tight self-control around his baser instincts. His other hand pulled on the messy braid of her hair and pulled her head back, exposing the delicious arch of her throat, the freckles along her décolletage and the puckered scar left behind by Dolohov’s curse, all of which his lips licked and nipped hungrily.

She had to bite her lip to stem the curses that wanted to spill from her as she felt her body drawing up tighter with pleasure. Bill sensed she was close and pulled her tighter into his body, their foreheads falling against each other as his hips snapped against her harder.

“You going to come for me?” he practically growled, eyes flashing near all gold. 

Hermione nodded, brow furrowed as she reached between them and flicked at her clit impatiently, so close she could feel it now. It only took a couple more thrusts before her muscles locked and her body was wrecked with shudders and spasms of a delicious orgasm. Unable to take the clenching muscles gripping him into oblivion, Bill thrust once more until buried deep inside the perfect heat and allowed himself to let go and ride his pleasure out with her.

Hermione gasped at a twinge of pain, slowly coming down from her high to realise her Bardot cut dress would be no good for the visit to the Malfoys tonight without at least a hefty glamour for the bite mark left behind on her shoulder.

“Beast,” she hummed fondly, reaching up to cup his sweaty cheek and pull him in for one more kiss.

“Minx,” he replied just as leisurely, groaning when she clenched around him on purpose, teasing his sensitive length. “Don’t you tempt me or I’ll bend you over and take you again… in like five minutes or so, let a guy catch a breath…” he joked. 

“Promises, promises,” she tutted but gently shifted her hips to separate their bodies and reached for her wand to clean them both up.

Bill settled his pants back around his hips and pulled her in for a gentle kiss. “Good morning,” he hummed as she nipped his bottom lip.

“Morning love,” she nuzzled his nose. “Could be even better though,” she hinted.

Bill chuckled. “As the madame wishes, one cup of tea coming right up,” he grinned and helped her back into her warm robe before setting about making them some tea.

* * *

She climbed down the steps, hoping no one was awake yet so she could sneak a couple of cups of tea up to their room. No such luck though, as she inched toward the kitchen and heard soft conversation. She peeked around the doorframe, pausing when she spotted Mrs Weasley on the counter, leaning into Mr Weasley’s arms comfortably as they talked in hushed tones. Deciding not to disturb them, she crept back upstairs, glad not to have met anyone else on the way.

Rose was chuckling at the Quidditch team WhatsApp group chat and the photo of Arielle McKinnon’s giant New York hot dog when Florence slipped back into the room.

“You’re quick,” she mused as she looked up, seeing the brunette pulling her hair into a messy bun while heading back to her. And no tea in sight. “No luck?”

Florence shook her head. “Your parents were awake. They looked really cosy, and I think your mum has baked something,” she mused and got into the comfy double bed they transfigured for themselves last night once they cast some privacy charms around the room. 

Rose shifted onto her side and reached for the other girl’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “The Snowflake pie, she makes it every year when it snows. It used to be our favourite thing to do on a snowy day; make the snowflake pie, and then make snow angels in the garden while we waited for it to cool. Then mum made us hot fruit tea punch with juice, and we would have a picnic on the living room floor,” she mused, the happy childhood memories pulling a smile from her.

Florence observed the shifting of emotion over her lovely features for a moment and shuffled closer. “I wish I had a tradition like that with my parents. Da always works long hours in the hospital over Christmas. We’ve been lucky this year,” she mused. 

Seeing the slight melancholy in her eyes, Rose leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. “Maybe next year, when we’re out of Hogwarts and have a place of our own, we could make our own snow day tradition?” she suggested.

The brunette’s smile lit up the room at the suggestion and she leaned in to steal a quick kiss. “I’d like that. First thought, I think it’s time to tell the parents. Do it now, rip the plaster off and get back to Hogwarts tomorrow before anyone can implode too much?” she suggested. 

Rose worried her bottom lip in a gesture reminiscent of her mother before nodding. “Yeah, I think it’s time. Mine first, yours tonight. Let’s get that tea,” she pulled them both out of bed and they headed down the stairs, a united front. Just as they were nearing the kitchen, she felt her Flo’s hand snake into hers and grinned. They could do this, she was ready. No need for runic interference for courage unlike her parents. 

“Morning mum, dad,” she greeted them both as the adults turned to look at them. “I have something I wanted to share with you…”

Fin.


End file.
